By Barrett Holman Leak in San Diego
In Shushan’s halls where marble pillars gleam,
A king carves power from a wine-soaked dream.
Vashti is gone, a crown sits on the floor,
And messengers go knocking door to door.
From every province, every distant coast,
They bring the beauty that the realm can boast;
But one among them carries deeper light—
A silent star hidden in the night.
Hadassah is her true soul’s name, a desert bloom,
But “Esther” is the mask for her mission she must assume.
Mordechai stands watchful at the gate,
While Haman weaves a shroud of silvered hate.
Because one knee refuses to be bent,
A decree of dust and ashes has been sent;
The lots are cast, the Pur defines the day,
To sweep a stubborn, ancient race away.
The palace walls are thick with silk and gold,
But Esther’s heart is shivering and cold.
“Am I the one? Must I be the voice?
To walk toward death—is this my only choice?”
Mordechai’s word rings like a temple bell:
“Who knows if for this hour, all was well?
If you are silent now, the help will rise,
But you will vanish from your people’s eyes.”
She fasts three days; she puts her robes aside,
With nothing but her shaking soul to guide.
She walks the court, she faces down the law,
And finds the scepter held without a flaw.
The banquet set, the king’s heart turned to grace,
The mask is lifted from the heroine’s face:
“My people are the ones the gallows claim!
The villain is this Haman—curse his name!”
The tables turn, the wicked meet their end,
The broken fences start to heal and mend.
No open miracle, no sea split wide,
Just human courage with a spark inside.
The mourning turns to dancing in the street,
With gifts of food and songs for all to meet;
For even when the truth is long concealed,
Through Esther’s heart, the justice is revealed.
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Barrett Holman Leak is a freelance writer based in San Diego.